Play By The Rules
by WinterWinds16
Summary: One night, one phone call, and suddenly Reid is fighting as hard as he can to protect himself and his team. Can anyone help him, or are their lives in his hands? Rated M just in case.


**Summary; The BAU is the most efficient, reckless team within the Virginian FBI, but when the whole teams lives end up in jeopardy it looks as if they will need help from a familiar face to escape it, before someone gets hurt.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or anything from it.**

***By the way, I am only just catching up on some of season six and all of season seven etc, so if I'm missing out details like Beth or anything else blah blah I apologize, but simply think of this as a separate story. :) Enjoy! xx**

**_Family_ **

I never knew what I wanted to be, never had any aspirations.

Although, I don't suppose any kid stood up in front of their classmates during 'show and tell' and said "I want to be part of a Behavioral Analysis Unit, preferably set up in Quantico, Virginia, when I'm an adult."

I've always been intelligent, in the least arrogant way possible, and I've always been a little...strange, hard to understand. I didn't have many friends, and my father never really took to me all that well. He wanted a boy to play sports with, talk about normal things, not someone like me who can think of a statistic for almost every single topic.

_"Spencer, how about we go throw the ball around for an hour?-"_

_"Er, did you know that an estimated 40,000 concussions are suffered every year among high school students throwing a football around?" _

Sometimes he'd nod, biting his bottom lip to keep from crying out in frustration at his abnormal son who can't seem to connect to the real world. Other times he'd sigh is exasperation before escaping to his office, a sign that perhaps he truly did hate accepting his own life. Eventually he stopped trying, until he left completely.

My mother was very different, for obvious reasons, but at the time I was just a young, incredibly smart boy who wanted to impress his mother. I'm an only child, therefore the competition was scarce and I could spend all day reading books with her and delivering long winded facts which she never grew tired of hearing.

But eventually, I reached that age when I knew something was wrong with my mother. She was sick, mentally unstable and she needed someone to help her. I was all she had left, and I had them take her away. I write her letters, let her know how I'm doing. I know I should visit, but I can't. I can't go there and look at what I may some day become, or see the betrayal painted on her face as I walk through the door.

I owe everything, however, to Jason Gideon. My mentor, my guide, my friend.

Jason Gideon is the reason I am in the field of work I am in, he hand picked me myself for his and my superior, Aaron Hotchner's, team. He saw potential in me, he said, and my 187% IQ helped things along to. I love my job, as difficult as it can be. Gideon always told me if I ever found myself in doubt to not remember _how_ we get the job done but _why_. That's why he kept a little black book of the people we'd saved, the people who are now alive because we helped them and caught the people who hindered their lives.

My team are my family, seeing as my family history isn't exactly...vast, unless there's a bunch of Reid's hiding and ready to emerge from the woodwork. Each member represents someone I consider family.

Rossi - The funny, failure in love Uncle. He often makes us smile when we are at our lowest, and never lets a members feelings slip beneath the radar.

Hotch - The strict Uncle, like a military sergeant. Often forgets how to separate himself from the job but always, without fail, comes through for the team. He's their leader, the one they follow by example.

Garcia - The bubbly step-sister, always there for comfort and colour and a smile. She struggles to separate emotions from the traumatizing things we see each case, but that's what makes her so lovable. She always understands.

Morgan - The older, jokey brother who has always 'got your back' as he says. He's the first one to crack a joke, but also the first one to defend those he loves the most. He has a quick temper, and struggles to trust anyone, but if you are lucky enough to earn it, he will protect you if its the last thing he ever does.

Prentiss - The mother. She keeps you in line and isn't one to let on how she is feeling, but if you confide in her, she'll respect you for it later. She's fiercely loyal and lets you know when you're in the wrong, but she is now considered vital to any case.

JJ - Sister, wonderful, loving and never to far away from a warm hug and a friendly 'Spence' to make you happy. She handles all the press and still manages to see the good in anyone. She feels intense guilt if anything bad happens to a member of the team, even if it is out of her control.

And then finally, a previous member who is long gone and moved on; Gideon.

Gideon - Father. He taught me everything I know about the field, and he will always be the man that showed me my path. He is still very present within the group, even though he stepped down from the force a long time ago. He will always be the father figure I wished for since I was a kid.

My name is Spencer Reid. I am a Special Agent within the BAU for the FBI. I have PhD's within Mathematics, Chemistry and Engineering, and also B.A.s in Psychology and Sociology. I also have a eidetic memory. I help my team profile and analyse various killers i.e. sociopaths, psychopaths, sadists, you name it. I like reading, and can read 20000 words in a book per minute. I know a fact for every topic, a statistic for every situation, a strategy for every mental puzzle, and I struggle to talk to women.

Which is why, I will never understand, why Morgan wants to take me _clubbing_.

"Come on, Romeo," Morgan says as I step out of his car which is sat outside some loud, over the top club down in the center of town. I gulp, my heart racing rapidly. We are supposed to be meeting the rest of the team here to cool off after another successful case. We'd caught a young gentleman targeting young high school girls with brown hair and green eyes to rape and torture (in mental revenge to a girl that left him for somebody else), and we suppose it is lucky that he only got away with two victims before we caught him with that could have been his third, and brought him in. Although how we could say _lucky _when two other girls still remain raped and dead is beyond me.

"Stop calling me that!" I exclaim and he laughs, clapping my back as we pass two large bouncers into the over the top club.

We meet the team by a table in the back, as far away from the speakers as possible. Hotch sits at the table by himself, files sat in front of him besides a full bottle of beer. Rossi is nudging him, trying to get him to stop writing and join in, but to no avail. Rossi widens his eyes at Morgan and I as we approach, an exasperated smile on his face.

"Do either of you think you can talk some sense into him?" Rossi says, chuckling. Garcia hugs me tightly around my waist, but lets go swiftly, knowing how awkward I am with personal contact. I smile shyly and sit on the other side of Hotch, glancing over his shoulder at what he is writing.

"The girls from today? Their case studies? Can't this wait until tomorow?" I ask curiously, and Hotch raises his head, giving me a frustrated look.

"I dislike my work piling up," He says, bowing his head again and scribbling away names, dates, details. With his free hand he lifts his beer and hands it to Morgan. "Here, have this. I don't like doing work when I've had a drink,"

"Hotch," Morgan says, pushing the hand away. With a swift hand he swipes the pen from his moving hand and lifts it above his head. "In this club here, you're my friend, not my boss. And as a friend I am going to make you _loosen _up, got it? Finish these tomorrow,"

Morgan throws the pen over his shoulder, and ignores the cry of anger from the person it had hit, then he leans across the table, closes the file and hands it to Rossi, who slides it into Hotch's bag which hangs off of his bar stool. Hotch closes his eyes and exhales slowly.

"Morgan-"

"Aaron, no excuses. The working day is _over_," He looks up and to his left, where the dance floor is, and smirks. A group of girls dance in time to the music, and already we know who Morgan will be spending the night with. "Lighten up, have a drink, and try and leave work in the office,"

Hotch glares after Morgan as he offers Garcia his hand, who flushes with delight, and leads her to the dance floor.

"Come on baby girl!"

I watch them go as Prentiss and JJ come over with a tray full of drinks. They smile and hug me quickly once the tray is down. JJ ruffles my hair.

"Spence, whats a boy like you doin' in a place like this?" She asks, an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face. I look at her, an honestly confused expression on my face.

"I've absolutely no idea," I say, and she laughs loudly, handing me a beer. I take it with distaste and thank her, then turn to Prentiss who is in deep conversation with Rossi and Hotch.

"If I'm honest with you, " She says, taking a long sip of her drink and then setting it on the table. "I can't believe we caught him so fast, I mean, this guy was smart, he cleaned up after himself he was organised,"

"He just wasn't quick enough, our speed on the case caused him to make mistakes," Hotch says, proudly, glancing over at Morgan before rifling back through his bag for a spare pen and the file. He opens it up and points at the images within it. "See? Straight after Alison's house had been checked out we were notified, it was _already _out there that there was a murderer around because by the organisation of the cuts we could tell he'd do it again, so we told everyone, and what d'you do when you're running and you've got a group of people just one step behind you?"

"You speed up," Rossi says, matter-of-factly. Hotch nods.

"You speed up, you get sloppy, unorganized. The wounds he leaves on Emma's body..." Hotch flips over a couple more pages until he reaches her photos. "They're in different places, like he's panicking, forgot to clear some of his DNA, bits he figured we wouldn't notice."

I sit a little closer, inserting myself into the conversation.

"It's strange though...most serial killers with initial precision in their murders take pride in their work, they want people to take notice of it and wouldn't care about being caught, its like its their mission," I say, and they nod in agreement, when Prentiss shrugs.

"I think he was simply trying too hard to be perfect to get noticed, but didn't want to get sent down for it-"

"Hey!" We look round, as Morgan approaches, Garcia in front, cheeks flushes and eyes sparkling. "What'd I say about leaving work back in the office?"

Hotch smiles discreetly and slips the file and pen back into his bag. Morgan nods, sitting besides me, Garcia his other side. We start discussing something else, myself inserting facts and statistics every now and then. This is something I oddly enjoy, time with my...family.

About an hour later we all appeared to have loosened up, I myself even drinking over my usual 'one glass only' rule. I'm a lightweight, that's for certain, and already my vision is slightly blurred.

"I can't believe Reid is drunk!" JJ laughs loudly, ruffling my hair again as she downs another short with Prentiss. They appear to be standing upright, although there are two of them each, so it might just be my eyes.

"He's had, what? Two beers?" Morgan chuckles, slapping me on the back. I try to muster a glare, and end up laughing with them.

"I don't drink! Ever!" I exclaim, my voice even more high pitched than usual. Hotch and Rossi exchange a look, and then even _they _burst out into fits of laughter. At my expense.

As we all double over with laughter, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I glance around at my team, then stumble to my feet.

"I'm gonna go take this, get some air," I say, giggling as I turn and crash my way through the crowd.

"Watch your step buddy!" Prentiss calls, amusement in her tone, and I wave her concern away.

The cool air hits me as I burst out of the doors, and I feel a bit better instantly. I lean against the wall, then click 'accept call' on my phone.

"Hello?" I say, hoping I don't slur.

_'Did you know that nearly 29% of deaths due to alcohol are a result of accidents. These 'accidents' are extremely common among 16–34-year-olds._

__"Having fun, Dr Reid?" An unfamiliar voice says, and immediately my buzzing blood seems to freeze. I stand up a little straighter, my attention grabbed.

"Who is this?" I demand, glancing back towards the club I'd just collapsed out of.

"Don't you feel the slightest bit of guilt?" The voice says, monotone, deep. Dark and sinister. "Two girls, raped and murdered, their families daughterless, and you and your little friends _celebrate _because more girls _weren't _raped or murdered?"

"Who the hell is this? Tell me your name!" I exclaim stupidly, unable to think straight and the voice snorts with amusement.

"I can see you, Dr Reid..."

I glance around frantically, but see no one in the deserted street or by the entrance to the club, except for the two bouncers who give me nervous looks.

"I can see all of you..."

"Prove it." I snap, fury coursing through my veins.

"Penelope Garcia," The voice says confidently. "Wearing an obnoxious, over-the-top pink hat with pom poms on it. A yellow shirt and a pair of peacock feather earrings."

I pant slightly, then rush back into the club the phone still pressed to my ear. I tear through the crowd, still stumbling slightly, and catch view of my table. Garcia sits in my vacated seat, a yellow shirt on her back, a pink hat atop her head, and feather earrings dangling from her ears.

I stumble backwards, to the cool of the outside so I can hear his voice.

"I can see you, Dr Reid," He says slowly, rolling the 'R' on 'Reid'. "You look scared...so much for being a 'protector of the people' as it were,"

I remain silent, a hand in my disheveled hair.

"You're right to be scared, Doctor," The voice is suddenly livid, furious as it spits out the word 'Doctor'. "And you'd be wise not to tell your little friends about this conversation. I've been watching you, you see, and I know your every move, your every little habit, and I will end each and every one of their lives in the most horrific way possible if you do not cooperate with me Dr Reid, are we clear?"

I don't say a word, and slide back into the wall.

"We'll be speaking again soon, don't you worry. Goodbye Doctor, enjoy the rest of your evening," The voice cuts off, but I stand there for what feels like hours, until Morgan comes out and ushers me back inside. He asks me whats wrong, commenting on how pale I've gotten, to which I must reply I feel a little 'under the weather' and follow him back into the club.

For the rest of the night, I don't speak a word.


End file.
